And You Can Be My Sheik

Gus, being attended to by his harem.

Or, in a less Oedipal caption: My mother, my husband, Me and my aunt Maria.

Hilarious. More wedding pix to come!

Making Friends With the Ketchup and Salt

So, a few quick links for the foodies...

Grub Hub is a quick (and best of all FREE) way to order online and centrally from a bunch of local restaurants. You can also sort by cuisine, who's delivering now, etc.

Ghetto Gourmet is a traveling dinner party and underground dining experience. Sign up for their mailing list -- when they come to your town, you order a ticket online (they show you the menu up front). They'll email you a few days before with the exact location, and you show up with a floor cushion and a bottle of whatever. Am doing this on the 4th, so will report in after.

Yelp is also a neat place to get reviews of local places -- it hasn't yet become too commercial, with corporate posts and whatnot.


Enjoy!

Wasting Our Time on Cheap Talk and Wine

I must highly endorse this... so much fun!

Gus and I were lucky enough to do the March one -- a nice treat/date night out in the middle of all the wedding craziness. It's a total steal at $35 per person -- a five course meal, with wine pairings for each, and they are not stingy about refilling your glass.

Let me know if you want to go!!!

Slow and Low, That Is the Tempo

Did I mention I was a suck-ass blogger? Yeah... no posts since January?!? Okay, so fine, I got all married and shit -- like THAT'S a good excuse? :)

And Baby It's Just Like You To Say Anything Else

"Anything else? ...Anything else? ...Anything else?"

Maybe it's just a city phenomenon, but why do delivery order-takers these days only say "Anything else?" -- more accurately, why do they say it after the first item!?!?? WTF! Really?!? Do you really think all I'm ordering is that edamame? Perhaps if you quit cutting me off to say "Anything else?" you would HEAR me order the next item, Scooter. You're so far behind, you think you're first.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five...

Yesterday, I was compelled to create a series of five self portraits:

This is "One" (below) -- in the elevator to the lobby. Although I'm almost unrecognizable in brushed stainless, there's a fun Shroud-Of-Streeterville vibe about it, IMHO.

To the right, we have "Two" -- slightly more detail, plus sinister hand, wherein my fingers appear to be genetically mutated or something. Again, fun.

"Three" on the left looks to me like the type of crap you see on shows about people with haunted houses. The spectral Me is lurking in the parking garage, and my spirit cannot be set free until I locate my ticket (lost ticket pays the maximum fee).

For "Four" I'm reflected in my snow-salt-stained car window. Look closely and you can see the crap. No, the crap is not the yeti in the puffy coat... that would be me. This is one of those perspective shots I love: Me, The Car Window, and Inside the Car.

"Five" -- all smiles. Me, Reflection of Me, Mirror, Inside Car, Outside of Car. Mwaaah!

Home Along The Lanes of the Skyway

Um, so when I said I finally have a view at work, after all those years in window-less offices?

Yeah. So this is the lower right quadrant of my view, on an overcast day.

Smell ME, MFers.

With Your Arms Around Your Girl You'd Try to Sing Along

A week ago Saturday, I went to see the Buffy Sing-Along. Me and about 700 of my closest friends. It was cold as tits that night, and apparently Buffy geeks love to drive, because there was no parking for blocks around the Music Box. After hauling my ass over there, snagging the will-call tix, and locating my peeps in line, we waited.

Managing to score some pretty good seats in the rear house left, we then 'enjoyed' an hour of Pre-Show. Bleaagh. It was poorly executed and understaffed, so despite the best intentions of the creator/emcee, we were all more than a little annoyed and anxious for the episode to start. Once it did? Magical. People were working their best RHPS moves on it, and it was amusing to hear what comebacks people came up with. My one big score, comeback-wise, was in the scene [SPOILER ALERT] where Dawn lets it drop to the flower-charmed Tara that Willow and T had been fighting (duh). After Tara leaves and just before Dawn sings her little pre-abduction "Lament," Dawn walks over to her jewelry box and pulls out the amulet she stole, the one that made Sweet come to Sunnydale. Knowing this was about to go down, I waited til Dawn turned to go to the jewelry box and shouted "Go look at the shit you stole!" -- much to the delight of those in earshot. If this thing does indeed become another RHPS, and that becomes an official comeback, know that it was me, ME! Mwahahaha!

The best part of the show (and one of my favorite moments, musically), was "Standing" -- Giles' solo (with slo-mo Buffy). They had everyone pull out there lighters (or, like the kids do nowadays at the rock shows, their cell phones), and sway them back and forth like they were at a Journey concert. [NOTE: Yes, I am old, and for some reason, waving your lighter makes me think of Journey. Suck it.] I wish this image properly conveyed how damn cool it looked, but it was pretty bad ass.

Other fun moments: Public acknowlegement of the "I'm not wearing underwear" line when Marni Noxon gets her ticket, the linguistics lesson wherein we learn that Spike and Angel have the same first name, and the plug for the Slay-A-Thon annual watch-fest that benefits the Make-A-Wish foundation. Guess I know where I will be on August 4th! :)

You Spin Me Right Round

When did I miss the revolution in lawn decorations? A flamingo? Sure. A sunflower that spins like a pinwheel? All right. A big inflatable snowman? Okaaaaaaaay, fine, whatevs. But this? It's like a miniature version of that inflatable house that the kids get in and jump around on and sweat like hell, only this one's filled with more inflatable shit (in this case, inflatable reindeer) on a turntable. That's right -- this was actually an action shot. There's some bizarre inflatable merry-go-round bullshit going on in there. Heaven help us.

You're The Inspiration

I responded today to one of those ubiquitous "iPod Music Survey" things floating around -- little did I know I was going to inspire brilliance! Christopher, a MySpacer I went to HS with, read my bulletin and was inspired to write the short story below. I in turn wrote one of my own, which appears below Chris'.

* * * * *


The goal was to take the 21 songs in order on my IPod shuffle setting and write a short story using as few words as possible that weren't part of one of the titles.This is a really a practice in creativity that my daily life doesn't always allow, so I thought I would take the advantage of an idea and an inspiration to find more creativity in my daily life. I hope you enjoy and if you feel inspired to write your own story please do.Thanks Kathe for the inspiration.

I was standing outside the BRICK and BEAUTIFUL front of my OLD LOVERS HOUSE. In the window I saw her painting of the BUFFALO SOLDIER, SITTING IN LIMBO. I only wished she would TALK TO ME, but I was told she was on a CHINESE VACATION. I headed down to THE NEW TIMER for a drink and I met ANNA MAY. She offered me REFUGE and I thought she was the one to SAVE THE DAY. She was the one who told me ANDY, YOU'RE A STAR, and I knew this was not the end of my story.In case you were wondering I'VE FOUND A NEW BABY, her name is MARTHA. We met in the park and talked for hours and I knew, she is SOMEBODY I could really love. I walked her home and she invited me in BUT NOT TONIGHT because we both knew this was SPECIAL. So, HERE IT GOES AGAIN. I have found in her my REDEMPTION SONG. Today I stand outside her house, holding 99 RED BALLOONS with a note saying I had long WISHED FOR YOU.

(So, it's a little corny but hey the IPod wrote it. ~Christopher)


* * * * *

My story... still thinking of a title for it...

I had a mean case of TRIPLE STAGE DARKNESS bearing down on my skull. I needed to get out of this WICKED LITTLE TOWN, and fast.

She had skipped three months ago with Jimmy "The KARPET KING" Webster. Gave me THE ANSWERING MACHINE BIT, let me come home to empty hangers and a collection of dust bunnies where our dreams used to be. Hell, even they knew she was leaving before I did -- they hear her record my "Dear John" message. In the beginning, she used to MAKE ME SMILE so much she nicknamed me MONA LISA. She told me I was her forever, then she left so fast it was like she'd been shot out of a MACHINE GUN. And now I'd finally tracked her.

"A letter arrived for you SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE." The motel clerk handed me a manila envelope full of pictures. Pictures that would make your mother blush. Pictures featuring MR WEBSTER and my wife. This whole thing was beginning to COME TOGETHER, but I needed to be road and fast if I was going to make it stick. I mean I LOVE CONDOMS, but you can't make babies wearing them, and I wasn't going to make her pay til I shrugged off this joke of a town. It's like my mama used to say, "YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT, but you can HURT those who hurt you first." So I was going to hurt her. I was going to hurt MY GIRL like she'd hurt me.

"HERE COMES THE RAIN AGAIN" I growled, as the drops began to spatter my rag top. I pulled THE PARKING TICKET from my windshield, and peeled away toward destiny.

Ten hours and two packs of Camels later, I pulled up outside the house. I could see her moving around inside. She was going to make an EXQUISITE CORPSE, and the best thing was that Webster was going to fry for it. While she was on that AIRLINE TO HEAVEN, the cops were going to find the life insurance policy he'd taken out. They were also going to find the murder weapon. I figured I'd plant it in his desk, piece of cake.

I focused on her silhouette there in the window. Shooting her was going to be the easy part. I'd been a SOLDIER BOY, after all -- dropped out in GRADE 9, and eventually enlisted. I'd been trained to shoot out a crow's eye from a hundred yards, and she was going to make a much cleaner target.

After three long months of absence, I finally felt the smile start to creep back across my lips. I was about to get my revenge... WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS Smith and Wesson.

This is exactly the kind of story my Noir-y car pix would fit -- just maybe they inspired the tone of this piece.

I Should Have Known, Should Have Known

How long did I say it would take to stop blogging daily? D'oh!

I do have an excuse, though -- I was busy driving all over town taking pix. Here's more Would-Be Film Stills:

I love both of these, but for different reasons. The one above is too centered for my tastes, but you can't see how fast I am going, and it has a blur that suggests motion, like I am speeding away from something nefarious. The one on the right is delightfully off-center and crisper, but you can see my MPH. It still has a fun anticipatory quality to it though.

Contrast those with some pix I took today:

I like this one (R) a lot. In my own little Isherwood fantasies, I would wish to be able to capture images from my POV, so that you had the multi-layered realities of Me, Inside the Car, The Windshield, and Outside The Car. The one below I call "Seuratt" (the extra T is for Traffic), because it looks so pointillist to me. Or impressionistic. Hmmm. Maybe I should retitle it. Or maybe I should calm down and quit being so freakin pretentious about my new hobby. Did I mention this is all courtesy of my new Pearl? Am loving it for the multifunctionality and portability alone. For anyone vetting the Pearl, this should also give you a half-assed idea of the picture quality you'll get. Not amazing intrinsically, but for what it is and what it cost, pretty Fing awesome, IMHO. Of course some Photographer (with a capital P, signifying that they actually know what they're doing) will probably laugh themselves silly when they stumble upon this blog. Ah well. I've been having a blast, and I love these pix.

Now this one below, taken during the same drive, is bizarre to me. Not sure what I have here, exactly...

I do love it, but it looks like something out of Bladerunner Meets BackDraft to me. Yet there's a vaguely sinister shadow/shape in the upper left quadrant. Is it sasquatch? Satan? Oliver Stone? Who's to say.

Hit Me With Those Lazer Beams

So I already mentioned Project 365 here -- a cool concept, but not one that I think I am prepared to follow through on. Aside from things like honeymoons and whatnot this year, I just know there are days I'll not turn on the puter (rhymes with "cooter" not "butter") and miss perfection. Until that time, here's the 2nd. Wanted to take a pic of my eye, but instead of it coming out sexy or whatevs, it came out looking a lits creepy, IMHO. That was almost reason enough for a discard ("Ooh, 2nd day of the year and she's taking creepy self-portraits"), til I realized how much it looks like a still from a Brian DePalma movie. And I love me some Brian DePalma.

How the Brave New World Arrives

Ringing in the new year for me involved geekdom (see right), a bottle of corked champagne, and... um... let's just say the Dropping of the Ball. Good times. Not the worst NYE on record, not by a long shot, but a pretty mellow one. Kind of how I like it though -- the roads of this town often look like the Zombie Apocalpse at about 2am on NYD. Staggering half-wits wandering out into the streets. Now mind you, we're talking 'Night of the Living Dead' zombies and not '28 Days Later' zombies.

I'm up in the Air

If you look out your plane window, and see labels on the wing, written in what appears to be Brother P-Touch, is that bad?

This one on the right says "Boost Pump" -- good to know. I wondered where I'd left that thing.


Conversely, the one to the left says "No Step Aft", and has a line that one can only assume you should not step aft of. All good, but if you were not supposed to, oh, step aft of a particular line on a 737 wing, wouldn't you want the label to be a skosh more permanent?

Up For Breakfast So Early In The Morning

Seen at one of my local Mickey D's. What happened to quality control here, folks? Times must change, but standards must remain.

I Know Where You've Been, I Saw You Walk in Your Door

I was at BFE's holiday party Tuesday night -- the annual hilarity of the Grab Bag Gift Exchange was up to its usual high standards (with a room full of improvisers, it was every bit the bit-fest one would expect). I walked away with a $15 iTunes gift card, which I traded to get (the original recipient does not have an iPod, so I gave her my girly bath stuff that I received).

The problem is, I am not an Improviser. I am not a Company Member. I am the Wife of a Company Member (okay, the Fiancée of a Company Member) -- as such, I go to a fair amount of shows and events related to The Company, and have seen all of these people Perform. So I know all their names, and have zero clue which of them know mine, or even know why I am there. Under normal circumstances, I find it hard to not act overly familiar with them -- I've seen them a million times, but as Random Audience Member.

Not surprisingly, many of them are also bloggers. And I have been known on occasion to read said blogs, and have learned all kinds of personal information about them as a result. So now, what was an already weird moment for me (being overly familiar with them just because I saw them in a bunch of shows) has become a Super Weird Moment because of all the personal details I'm now privy to. I know their kids names, where their parents live, what they ate this week, that their uncle/cousin/cat/career is dying, and other esoteric info... and the desire to comment on it when I see the bloggers in question becomes overwhelming. I want to make Overt Reader statements ("I loved what you wrote about peanut butter sandwiches - it really spoke to me") and Processed Information statements ("If it helps, our vet put the cat on the Waltham SO dry food, and it really seems to help with the seizures"). Either way, I am afraid they're going to get weirded out by the fact that I read their blogs, which is either insane of me to think or insane of them to do. Insane of me because their blog is public, and why make it public if you don't want it read? Insane of them for, well, the same reason.

It's not just BFE's co-workers blogs, though -- I have friends with blogs, friends who know I read their blogs, and I still blanche when I catch myself starting a reference to something I've read there. Why? I think it's something like getting caught in a lie -- if I say "Miette is so cute" and the blogger in question all of a sudden thinks "Wait... I never told her about Miette" then I come off as a stalker (which I'm not) rather than an information whore (which I am).

I think the answer may be Gratiuitous Comments. From now on, I am going to write comments on every post of every blog I read. They'll probably be more of Type 2 than Type 1, but even if it's just me commenting "Werd" on each & every post, at least that way the blogger in question will know that I read their shit. And THEN the conversation we'll have will be less "Wait, how did she know about my boob itch?" and more "Hey there, Inanegirl McCommentsmuch... back off a lits. Just a skosh."

Down Along Division Street

So we had our company's holiday luncheon Thursday the 14th -- traditionally, it takes place on a Thursday because the post-party is at Butch's, and many have a hard time making it in to work the next day. This is the ceiling of one of the rooms at Butch's -- I fell instantly in love with the place because of this ceiling. It reminds me of Indian restaurants in New York City, with all the lights and lanterns and crap? The first time I experienced same, I was delighted -- arriving at Butch's, I felt much the same way, despite the substitution of Xmas-y stuffed animals for the lanterns. It's a particularly fun choice for a bar, with the sense of play it creates. They tell me the lights are only seasonal, though, which makes me a little sad.


Last year was my first holiday luncheon, and I was feeling puny so bowed out before the post-party. This year I had to therefore help make up for lost time... and I would say I did. Feeling shockingly fine today, so either I drank the right combination of things (mostly Harp and Irish Car Bombs -- thanks, Juice), or just got lucky. Could just be that because I am an extremely lucid drunk, and am not prone to drunken sloppiness.

This brings to mind the recent conversations I have had about Corporate Policy -- I've read any number of news blurbs about people getting fired for blog content, and now when I read or write blog entries, I think "Is this sentence actionable?" It's effed, but it's true. So do I blog about this post-party? Do I blog about which co-workers fell down, or peed themselves, or made out in the basement (sorry, Ho-larm)? No. Because it would be wrong. Narf.

Mama's Pearl

So I broke down tonight and bought the new Blackberry Pearl. Was tired of weird glitchy things with my old 7100T, most of which may be attributable to several recent droppings thereof -- one, awkwardly, during an already strained call with my mother, caused the device to hang for about 10 mins, and even then it would not allow me to call out for another 5. I'm sure she thought I had hung up on her, and am surprised she spoke with me at all when I finally got her on the phone.

The major perk is the long-awaited addition of a camera feature -- love it. Loving this device in general so far -- set-up was incredibly easy, and now it's just about tweaking things to get them the way I like them.

And now I can finally take part in Project 365 if I want. :)

Oooh, and notice the sad glow of the cast-off 7100T in the background... that thing is so going to murder me in my sleep. In the horror version movie of my life, that is -- every pic I take with Pearl will be fine and normal, but then when I look at the image, the 7100T is looming somewhere in the background, perhaps ever closer in each image. Spooky.

If I Should Fail, If I Should Fold

Feeling really unmotivated right now. The wedding planning is coming together, so that I am excited about, but I feel otherwise really off-track and uncentered right now. And strangely cognizant that there must be hundreds of bloggers out there right now with at least one post of this ilk in their archives.

Why is lack of motivation and/or desire to get re-motivated not enough in and of itself to jump-start motivation? Wanting the thing is not enough. It is not the missing flint. And in many ways, it is it's own vacuum. Motivation is like love, it is a form of self-love [insert masturbation or auto-fellatio joke here]. And like love, wanting it does not make it so. You can sit at home and type into your blog all you want about you are ready for love, and how you want love in your life, but love does not fall into your lap. Love is a set of circumstances, bound by timing and mindset and fortune and sheer will, and then lit by a spark.

Maybe that's why I collected Zippos all those years. Who knew?

On The Black Satin Sheets...

Which NICOLE KIDMAN Character Are You?

"Satine" in MOULIN ROUGE! You're not just a star in your own mind, you're the real deal. Beautiful, talented, and gorgeous. But life is short: stop worrying about money and fame. Above all things, life for love. Take this quiz!

So basically I'm a tuberculosis-ridden whore...